Eulogy for Eugene McClory, May 9, 2013 Gene was my big brother always my big brother!

! He was a take-charge kind of person. He liked to be in control. Our mother used to tell the story of when Gene came home after his first day in school, in first grade. She asked him if he had made any new friends during recess. He said, no, he just walked around the school building and pretended he owned the place. There is an old photo that stands on a table in our living room. Gene was about 14 and I was about 9. I don't know what the occasion was, but we were both dressed up in suits and ties, Gene standing tall and proud with long pants, and me wearing knickers. You can tell from the look on my face how I felt about that. And we're standing in front of our father's old 1935 Buick, with big fenders and a great grill. It could have been used in gangster movies. A fewyears earlier, Gene became very interested in radio programs and built a kind of make-shift radio studio in our basement. Somehow he got old microphones and sound effects and other radio features, and he would be the moderator of play programs. He sent in for scripts from programs which offered them free, and he would enlist me and Dan O'Connor and a few other kids to read scripts. I remember one program was "You can't do business with Hitler. " This was before World War II, and the show was sponsored by a group that wanted to make sure the U.S. would not remain neutral while Hitler was tearing Europe apart. So there we were, little kids in the basement reading our scripts about how evil Hitler was, with Gene making sure we enunciated, spoke our parts at the right time and insisting we didn't go over the 30 minutes allotted for the show. We lived on Fifth Avenue in Chicago's West Side, and streetcars were going by all day. So Gene decided to check if they were on schedule. He would sit at the window with a watch and jot down the times they passed, comparing that with the previous days. Then he somehow got to know one of the motormen, who gave Gene copies of the real schedule. So then he really felt he was in charge. As far back as I can remember Gene was there for me, making sure I didn't get lost on the way to school, giving me little tips and encouragement, and I'll admit he could be kind of bossy at times. But he was my mentor all through grammar school, high school and the seminary, since we went to the same schools, me four classes behind him, teachers always saying, "Oh, you're Gene McClory's little brother; we hope you can measure up to his high standards!" As a priest Gene always seemed to have responsible jobs. He rarely took a day off. He would be involved with Catholic Action activity or organizing Pre-Cana conferences for young couples about to be married. But his biggest job was as vicar for religious men and women under Cardinal Cody in the 1960s. This was a time of great turmoil when religious orders were being restructured and many sisters were leaving. Gene was constantly in action, visiting convents and motherhouses, not only in Chicago but around the country. He was a great listener and counselor. And to this day when I give a talk or attend a conference, an elderly woman , sometimes several, will come up afterwards and say, "Were you the Father McClory who saved my life in the 1960s?" They always gave their religious name and asked to be remembered to him. Gene went

to Rome with Cardinal Cody several times to discuss matters with the heads of the Congregation for Religious. Among the pictures Cathy put up at the wake is one of Gene and Cody and some Curia members, with Pope Paul VI in the middle. And there were very strong rumors in the early 1970s that Gene was about to be named a bishop. But he stopped the rumors instantly when he resigned as a priest in 1971. His first real job as a layperson was as president of the Alfred Adler Institute of Psychology in Chicago. I don't know how he got that position. It's kind of unusual for someone to step out of religion and become immediately the head of a prestigious, secular school. But as I said, Gene liked to be in control. He married Mary Malone and they had one wonderful daughter, Catherine Frances. The family moved near Michigan City, Ind., and Gene became the number two man, under the charismatic Father Don McNeil at the Center for Social Concerns at Notre Dame University. The center made students aware of Catholic social doctrine and the problems of poverty and injustice, and it sponsored trips to Appalachia and to inner cities in the U.S. where the students got involved in directly helping the poor. Then in 1985 came the great tragedy when Mary was killed in an auto accident, and Gene became the single parent of Cathy. He did it, and they got through the teens though there were some rocky times. He married Mary Coleman and after a couple more moves, they settled in Fort Mitchell, Ky., a suburb of Cincinnati. Gene took a position there as director of Support Groups for Caregivers for Catholic Charities. I think he enjoyed that job the most. When he came on board there were only two support groups in the Cincinnati Archdiocese, and there were more than 30 when he left. Taking care of an elderly parent or disabled son can be a very isolating experience, but Gene loved the challenge of helping groups get organized. He found that when six or seven caregivers who didn't know each other sat down and listened to one tell her story, they all were ready to chime in with their own similar experiences. Gene became an expert on caregiver support, organized a yearly conference for nurses and other professionals in the field and published a regular newsletter. He even was filmed in a series of online videos where he interviewed doctors, nurses and psychologists and sometimes gave his advice directly to viewers. At long last Gene had his own broadcast program in real life. After retirement, he became an ombudsman for a nursing home near his home. He visited every patient every week and made sure they were getting the care they deserved. But his health was failing. In mid-April Margaret and I went to visit him, and he became quite ill while we were there. We got him to the University Hospital in Cincinnati. He was there for three weeks. Cathy and Michael and members of the Malone family from around the country came to be with him during this hard time. Despite all efforts it was clear he would not get well. The doctors asked if he would like to go into hospice, and Gene said yes. He told us he was "ready to go." On May 3 they removed all the tubes and medications except oxygen. Gene became very alert, more alert than he had been most of the time in the hospital. Margaret held his hand and I

reminisced about the wonderful trips we had around the country when we were teens. Our cousin Joseph, who was like our second father, and his daughter Mary Angela, who was like our big sister, would pile us into Joseph's old Volkswagen and we 'd be off. Gene nodded and smiled as he remembered the trip out West to Albuquerque, and the one to New York City and up into Canada, all the way to Montreal, and the one to Florida where we drove down through all the Keys. I was so grateful for that time we had. After some 30 minutes, he was given a sleeping pill and he dozed right off. We went back to where we were staying at night, and two hours later the hospital called to say he had passed away. So where is Gene now? We don't know. Jesus gave us some images and metaphors about heaven but not a real clear picture. Christians often think of the afterlife as a great banquet or a reunion by the river. There's an old, framed photo we have in the family of some kind of celebration in the southern Illinois town my dad came from. There are literally hundreds of people all dressed up standing in front of the old church. Many of them were McClorys. So I think of Gene coming into that great crowd. And they've been waiting for him. They come to him, our mother and father, our brother Edward, our grandparents and they're saying, "It's all right, Gene, you're OK, you're home."Mary Malone McClory is there too, and she's sure to have a lot of questions. And after some time of welcoming, I see some ladies coming toward this gathering. And they're saying, "Are you the Father McClory who saved our lives in the 1960s? We never had a chance to thank you except when we spoke to your little brother." And there's Gene fully in charge of the situation. What a reunion! I can only imagine it. Thank you all for coming and for your kind words to us. Gene would be so glad to see you all. May his soul and all the souls of the departed rest in peace. Bob McClory